


touch and go

by bringyouhometoo



Series: never saw you coming [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Episode: c02e020 Labenda Awaits, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bringyouhometoo/pseuds/bringyouhometoo
Summary: Caleb doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet in his entire life.They’re two days’ ride out of Zadash, it’s the early hours of the morning, and it feels as if he is wet through to his bones. Their attempt at a campfire went out hours ago, so he’s been keeping some dancing lights afloat under a wet cloth - hoping it’s not enough to attract any unwanted attention - and with the rain lashing down and the wind rustling in the trees, it's as if he is entirely alone in the clearing.Well. Almost entirely.Jester and Caleb share a watch.





	touch and go

**Author's Note:**

> I SAID I WOULD BE BACK A FEW EPISODES LATER AND HERE I AM WITH AN EPISODE 20 MISSING MOMENT.
> 
> So basically in Episode 20 Jester and Caleb share a watch together but then Matt MADE THEM ALL LEAVE THE ROOM so Yasha could have a dream sequence and I have never felt more betrayed in my entire life. So I wrote this. 
> 
> (Context: I'm watching CR for the first time! I know nothing! This is technically canon compliant with Episodes 1 through 20!)
> 
> Dedicated to [Christine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elsinorerose/profile) who also gave me the prompt "temple, sleeve, bird's nest" which I ended up using here!

Caleb doesn’t think he’s ever been this wet in his entire life.

They’re two days’ ride out of Zadash, it’s the early hours of the morning, and it feels as if he is wet through to his bones. Their attempt at a campfire went out hours ago, so he’s been keeping some dancing lights afloat under a wet cloth - hoping it’s not enough to attract any unwanted attention - and with the rain lashing down and the wind rustling in the trees, it's as if he is entirely alone in the clearing.

Well. Almost entirely.

“And then I thought, well, Jester, you’re not going to find anyone around  _ here  _ who wants to know about the Traveller, so you better get your butt out of Nicodranas and see if you can find some place better, and so I told my Mama I was going, and I left, and then I met Beau and Fjord and I thought they might be interested in the Traveller, but they weren’t  _ all  _ that keen, but I’m still working on them.” Jester pauses to draw breath, seemingly for the first time. “And here we are.”

“I thought,” Caleb says slowly, “you had other reasons for leaving home?”

“Well….” Jester cocks her head to one side, looks up at him through her lashes. Rain drips off her nose. “Technically, yes. But it was all part of the Traveller’s plan.”

Caleb laughs quietly, feeling his chest rattle with the beginnings of a cough. “Sure, ja.”

“You sound sick,” Jester says immediately, and Caleb barely has time to protest before she’s scooted up to his side and pressed her palm to his forehead. “Are you getting sick, Caleb?”

“Nein, nein. No,” he says, tries to laugh again. “Just a cough, Jester.”

“A cough is on the way to sick,” Jester says sternly. “You should really dress warmer, you know. I bet the rain is getting in through all those holes.”

Caleb shrugs. He’s long given up trying to find excuses for his ragged clothes, his grubby face. “It’s fine.”

“It is not fine!” Jester sounds almost offended. “Call Frumpkin back, get him to warm you up!”

“Frumpkin doesn’t like the rain.”

“Neither do I, but you don’t see me disappearing off to the  _ astral plane  _ whenever I like!”

“Frumpkin isn’t…” Caleb trails off, and shakes his head, dislodging water from his hair and feeling it run down the back of his shirt. “You know what? Nevermind.”

“I bet he’d come back if you asked him to,” Jester says, very reasonably. “He’s your familiar, Caleb, he won’t want you getting sick.”

“I’m really fine, Jester. Really.”

Jester puffs out her cheeks, exasperated. “Fine, then, see if I care when you  _ die of the flu. _ ”

“It’s only a little rain,” Caleb says, touched despite her almost exaggerated careless attitude. “We get much worse winters in the Zemni Fields, I promise.”

“Ye- _ es, _ ” Jester drawls, as if he is very stupid; Caleb bites back a smile. “But you have  _ warm clothes  _ there.”

“Jester, are you cold?”

“Me?” She sounds offended again. “Of course I'm not cold, I'm _really tough_ **.** And I have a cloak.”

“Because you can get under the blankets if you like,” Caleb says evenly. “I won't tell anyone.”

“Sure you won't,” Jester scoffs. “No.  _ No _ , I'm not cold.”

“Okay,” Caleb hums, and they fall back into silence. He watches the rain.

Jester shifts around on her bedroll, clearly uncomfortable; Caleb thinks about offering her another blanket, but one look at her stubborn expression warns him off. They only have an hour or so left before dawn, anyway, and then they'll be on their way. He's a little tired, even though he slept solidly through the first part of the night, but it's nothing a little cold sausage and a hunk of bread won't fix. It's strange; the weeks on the road with Nott had seemed interminable, every day just another one to get through, every town they stopped in just a place to comb for books before moving on. 

Traveling with the Mighty Nein is...different. Slower, sure, and drawing a little more attention to themselves than Caleb is truly comfortable with, and a lot less  _ purposeful _ . 

And a lot less lonely. 

“Caleb?” As if to prove his point, Jester nudges his knee with hers. “What are you thinking about?”

“Us,” he says unthinkingly, and feels his cheeks heat up through the rain. “The Nein, I mean. All of us. It's been...good.”

“I think so,” Jester nods, pressing her knee against his companionably. Caleb swallows. “And you know, we're a real group now. We have  _ goals _ .”

Caleb thinks of Beauregard taking him to the library; wonders, for the hundredth time, just how much the others know, how much they have guessed. “Do you have a goal?” 

“Caleb!” Jester sounds offended again, elbows him slightly too hard in the ribs. “Of course!” 

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I am sorry, I did not mean…”

She's laughing now, her eyes bright in the darkness, and Caleb trails off. “I am spreading the word about the Traveller,” she says, all the bite disappearing from her tone. “And I am looking for my dad, you know.”

“Those are good goals,” Caleb says quietly. “Noble goals.”

“And  _ we  _ have goals together too,” she says. “The jobs for the Gentleman, for a start. And then we have to get Fjord to Rexxentrum.”

“Mmh,” Caleb hums, keeping his eyes fixed on his knees. “Of course.”

Rexxentrum. The Academy. 

Caleb draws away slightly, folds his arms in on himself. If Jester notices, she lets it pass without comment, and Caleb forces his mind back to the plan. 

He and Nott will just have to leave the others long before then, that's all. Caleb wonders when exactly that thought became so difficult.

“Caleb?” Jester's voice sounds very gentle in the dark. “What about you, what are your goals?” When he doesn't say anything, she laughs. “Besides reading every book you can find, I mean.”

_ Goals.  _

Maybe he can tell her, just like that: maybe telling Beauregard and Nott was the opening of the floodgates that he needed to be able to talk about this; maybe she will understand.

And then Caleb thinks about the look of disgust that will flash across her face, horror followed by pity followed by more horror on those  _ ridiculously  _ expressive features, and he says, “I'm not sure I have any goals. Besides, you know, not dying, and maybe learning some more magic.”

“Not dying is a very good start,” Jester says with a quiet laugh. “But I don't believe you for one second, Widogast.”

Caleb feels his lips twitch. “Is that so?”

“You have got some big secret plan, you and Nott,” Jester says lightly. “You're only travelling with us as long as it's convenient.”

“That's - “ Despite the rain, Caleb's mouth feels suddenly dry. “We are stronger together. All of us.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Jester says, her voice still deceptively light. “So it's convenient for now, right?”

He wants to lie to her.

He cannot lie to her. 

“And what about you, then?”  _ Ablenkung _ **,** Caleb thinks, a distraction is better than a lie. “When you have brought Fjord to - to where he wants to go, what then?”

Jester just gives him a  _ look _ .

“I don't know,” she says, after enough of a pause that Caleb knows she hasn't bought the distraction for one  _ second  _ but is letting him get away with it for now. “Keep spreading the word of the Traveller, I guess. Maybe I could start a temple for him in Rexxentrum!”

“That is…not possible, you know,” Caleb says gently. He forgets, sometimes, just how new Jester is to the empire. How little she understands. “You cannot just open a temple to a new god, not in Rexxentrum. Not anywhere.”

“I'll be  _ really sneaky _ ,” Jester says confidently.

“They will find you out,” he says, his hands balled into fists against his knees. “And they will - “

_ Send someone to burn it down - _

“Caleb.” A small blue hand closes around his fist. “Caleb,  _ breathe _ .”

Caleb exhales shakily.

“Now breathe in,” Jester says quietly, and Caleb knows  _ exactly  _ how she is looking at him without having to turn around, conviction and concern written across her eyes, her dimpled cheeks. He doesn't turn around; she doesn't let go of his hand, though, and slowly Caleb feels the tension leave his knuckles.

“I am sorry,” he says, eyes fixed on their hands, resting together on his knee. Rainwater rolls off her fingers onto his fist, and her palm feels very warm against his skin. “I do not mean to discourage you.”

“Would it be so bad, a temple to the Traveller?” Jester asks, and Caleb shrugs, suddenly tired.

“I'm sure it would be wonderful,” he says, looking up just in time to see a small, thoughtless smile flash across her face. “Although I can't imagine you staying contained in a temple for very long.”

Jester giggles, actually  _ giggles  _ at him, and Caleb feels his face flush with something strangely close to pride. “Maybe it can be more of a travelling temple, you know,,” she says. “We could tell fortunes, and have a show, and people could come and hear about all the amazing things we've done…”

“So a circus,” Caleb deadpans, and Jester lifts both their hands up to hit him on the knee.

“A travelling temple! It makes sense for the  _ Traveller _ **,** right?”

“Sure,” Caleb says evenly, laughing quietly when she hits him again. “You are a very violent cleric, you know.”

Jester laughs again, pulling her hand out of his to shove two strands of wet hair behind her ears. Caleb opens and closes his fist, his hand feeling strangely empty.

“Does it always rain this much here?” Jester asks, pulling a face when her hair falls wetly across her forehead again. Caleb smiles, and presses his hands  _ firmly  _ to his knees, pushing down the sudden instinct to reach over and -

“After Harvest Close, sure, ja,” he says, coughing a little. “Then later we will get snow, that is always much nicer. Although...colder.”

“Snow is colder,” Jester repeats, and Caleb feels his face heat up again, each drop of cold water a tiny shock to the system. “Wow, you are so smart, Caleb, I can really tell you've read all of those books.”

Caleb clears his throat, and - once he is sure she isn't going to laugh at him some more - asks, “Do you ever get snow on the Menagerie Coast?” 

Faintly, he is aware that they are quite literally _talking about the weather_ , that surely he must have some better way to pass the time until dawn -

“No, never,” Jester says, hugging her knees to her chest, and this is good, really, this is safer ground even if it isn't the most riveting conversation in the world - “I hear it's  _ awesome _ **,** though.”

“It can be beautiful,” Caleb nods. “Dangerous, maybe. Harsh on the land, on the farmers, but…” He thinks back to twilight sled rides down the hill behind his house. “Beautiful. And it makes the spring all the sweeter, you know.”

“I can't wait,” Jester sighs, her eyes blinking closed a few times. “Mama told me, the first time you hear a blackbird singing at sunrise, that's the sign that the snow is melting. The world is waking up.”

Caleb smiles, letting his mind wander to spring sunshine, to birdsong, to warm afternoons.

“My mother said it was the first time you found a bird's nest with eggs inside,” he says, his voice shaking just slightly with the sudden, unbidden memory. “Then you know it's time to start sowing the land. We used to check the trees around our house every day, looking for nests…”

“Did...did you  _ eat them _ ?” Jester sounds horrified, and Caleb has to laugh. 

“No, no. We just wanted to look. And then wait for the chicks to be born…It's lucky, you know, where I am from, if you collect the eggshells afterwards. I collected them all in my room.”

Jester laughs too, obviously relieved. “That's kind of cute, Caleb.”

The rain is still lashing down, but it's almost as if they have conjured up some warmth in the dark; Jester smiles up at him, and he feels something tiny and hopeful begin to glow in his chest.

“You know,” she said then, her voice suddenly serious and low. “It would really suck if you weren't here still in the spring.”

Caleb feels the embers flicker; his chest feels cold. “What do you mean?”

“Whenever you and Nott go off and do your own thing again…” Jester shrugs, looking down at her feet. “You should stay until spring. Show us those bird's nests.”

He has to tell her.

He cannot tell her.

He will  _ have  _ to leave them before they get to Rexxentrum.

“Ja, well,” he says, aiming for light but landing somewhere constricted, somewhere strangely hollow. “Spring is a long time away, you will probably get bored of us before then.”

“I won't get - “ Jester cuts herself off, two bright spots appearing high on her cheeks. She glares at him. “Fine, okay. Keep your secrets, I don't care.”

“Jester…” Caleb bites his lip. The childhood memories and the slow, halting closeness from before seems to have dissipated into the rain, too fast for him to notice. “I'm sorry.”

“You could just tell me what you're doing,” she says, low and angry, her words tumbling out quicker than Caleb suspects she means them to. “I could help. we could  _ all  _ help, but no, you just keep collecting spells and books and secrets, and one day we'll wake up and you will have disappeared off into the dark without a word, because you never promised to stay, right?” 

Caleb feels very cold. “I can't… _ verzeih mir _ , I am sorry, but I cannot promise you that, Jester.”

“Yeah,” Jester says, her shoulders hunched in on herself and her face turned away. “Yeah, I know.”

The rain is still beating down incessantly, and Caleb thinks desperately that it must be nearly dawn, that the others must be waking up soon, that he will find an excuse to walk beside Nott today and that Jester will stop  _ pulling  _ at all his defenses -

“I will promise to tell you before I decide anything,” he says, the words forming themselves in the air before he has decided to say anything at all. “How does that sound?”

There is a long pause.

“Fine, okay,” Jester says in a small voice. “And not until you show me those eggs, okay?”

Caleb swallows, looks away. The first hints of grey are starting to tinge the night sky over the horizon. 

“Ja,” he says quietly. “Yes, Jester, if I can…” _ I cannot promise this, because I cannot be sure you will be able to stand my company - _

“Promise me,” Jester says sternly, knocking her knee against his again to take the sting out of her words. “ _ Caleb _ .”

“Sure, Jester, I promise,” Caleb says quietly. “If you still want want me here, then I…I promise i will show you where to find the eggshells.”

“Why wouldn't we still want you here, silly?” Jester laughs. “For such a clever wizard you can be really dumb sometimes, you know.”

Caleb closes his eyes. “Yes, Jester.”  _ If you only knew _ **.** “Ja, I know.”

“So it’s settled, then,” Jester says, sounding satisfied. “You’re staying.”

Caleb hums neutrally. Vaguely, he wonders what it will be like when she finds out. When they all find out exactly what kind of man they have accepted into their group. He doesn’t want to know; he doesn’t want to think about it; it doesn’t bear thinking about.

So he says nothing.

“Hey, I think it’s almost dawn,” Jester says suddenly, her voice perking up as she looks out to the horizon; Caleb, turning to face her, sees her rub at her face with the end of one sodden sleeve, looking impossibly young and sweet in the slowly-lightening air. “We should wake the others.”

Raindrops glisten in her hair, and Caleb thinks wildly of early-spring snow. Of irises blooming in the frost, stubbornly beautiful. He will not leave before the first snowfall, at least not by choice; and Caleb thinks, watching as Jester tucks the same strand of damp hair behind her ear again, that he would like to still be here for the first bloom. Maybe that’s not a bad goal, he thinks. Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad goal at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments are always appreciated, and I am also on [tumblr](http://ameliajessicapond.tumblr.com/). <3
> 
> This series will probably continue....soonish. I have it on good authority that I will want to be writing about Episode 24, so. WE'LL SEE.


End file.
